


Can't fall if you don't climb

by zombiekittiez



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cute, Either pre-finale, F/M, Fluff, Fred being observant, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Good Parent! Fred, Growing Up, Pining, bughead - Freeform, ladders - Freeform, or AU from finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez
Summary: “Archie, have you been... on the roof lately?” Fred asks hesitantly at dinner. Archie looks up, surprised.“No, Dad. Did you need help patching something up?”Fred shakes his head vaguely. “No...”Jughead just eats his second helping of Beef Stroganoff Hamburger Helper without commenting, but there is a quiet alertness to the way he holds his fork.





	Can't fall if you don't climb

**Author's Note:**

> Tense shifts are on purpose and I hope not too disorienting.

Fred Andrews stands in the doorway of his shed and frowns, the little lines between his eyes emphasizing his confusion and displeasure. This makes the fourth time this month that his ladder has gone missing. He finds it, this time, hidden in the tall grass and damp with dew. 

“Archie, have you been... on the roof lately?” Fred asks hesitantly at dinner. Archie looks up, surprised. 

“No, Dad. Did you need help patching something up?” 

Fred shakes his head vaguely. “No...” 

Jughead just eats his second helping of Beef Stroganoff Hamburger Helper without commenting, but there is a quiet alertness to the way he holds his fork.

It is not a particularly _nice_ ladder, which is probably what makes Fred so puzzled. He'd had that ladder ten years- bought it on Archie's fifth birthday, the first after they'd moved into the yellow sided house next to the Coopers. He'd been low on cash but it had been on sale- he'd walked out of the store with it heavy across his shoulders, whistling. Mary had _loved_ their new house, insisted on throwing a birthday party and inviting all the neighbors. He'd been so pleased with her acceptance of small town Riverdale life after dreams of cityscapes and _making a difference,_ watching her trade briefs and adjournments for grass stains and a kitchen sink that dripped a little. His pleasure had made him pliable, which was how he found himself leaning precariously over the side of the ladder in front of the house, stringing up the lighted HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner only minutes before the guests began trickling in. It had also made him careless. He slipped a little, left foot losing its traction, scrambling arms clutching at the gutter, heart in his throat as he heard the creak of old, worn metal separating from the house even as the ladder wobbled beneath him unsteadily. 

“Dad?” Little Archie called up, hesitantly. 

“Is he okay?” A little blonde thing- Hal and Alice's kid, he figured, peered over the hedge from next door. 

“He's fine,” Archie said with pride so great that Fred was almost a little sorry he was going to ruin it by falling to his death. 

Suddenly the ladder steadied beneath him. Fred scrambled down and looked into FP's wide, toothy grin.

“Looked like you needed a hand, Fred. Hold it for me, will ya?” FP shook his hair back from his face and climbed, fixing the banner effortlessly. 

A small, somber faced child- a little grubby, gray beanie pulled low over his eyes, stood on the sidewalk leading up to the house. 

“Hey Jug,” Archie said casually. “Want a Capri Sun?” Jughead nodded slowly. Archie ran off toward the house. 

The bushes rustled. The blonde girl crawled out. She was smallish- must have been the youngest. Betty, he thought. 

“Is that your Dad?” Betty asked Jughead who looked at her out of the corner of his eyes without turning to face her. FP stood at the top of the ladder, arms outstretched, wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, ragged, a little greasy from working at the garage. He was sweaty and unkempt. 

“Yeah,” Jughead said defensively, crossing his arms. “He came from work. He works on cars.” 

“Cool,” Betty said, smiling. 

Jughead turned to face her fully. “Cool?” He repeated, as though the word tasted strangely in his mouth.

“Cool,” Betty said firmly. 

“Hey!” Archie reappeared behind them. “I got Pacific Coolers! They are the _best._ I got one for you, Betty.” Archie thrust two silver juice packets out. Jughead accepted his with a muttered thanks, tugging his hat down a little lower over his red tipped ears. Betty flushed completely and openly scarlet. 

Ah, Fred had thought, as FP clambered back down triumphantly. “Show off,” he'd said as they carried the ladder back to the garage, and FP just laughed. 

Carrying it back to the garage after dinner, Fred checks the ladder over. It seems to be in good shape still- sturdy, only slightly dented. Whoever is using it isn't hurting it in any way. He'd shown Archie how to use it when he'd gone through his astronomy phase- how to get up to the flat, even, edged-in roof of the garage and back down safely- and made him promise to never go up there alone. 

“I won't, Dad,” Archie assured him with the confidence only a ten year old could inspire. “Jughead's coming over. And Betty,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Betty Cooper? Archie, there is no way Alice is going to let her on the roof.” Fred arched an eyebrow. 

“Her mom's visiting her grandma and her dad said it's fine,” Archie waved a hand negligibly. 

Fred had kept sneaking over to the window and cracking it open to check on the kids. Mary had been sitting up in bed, pouring over a dusty leather bound legal tome- a little _light reading_ , she'd called it as she laughed at him. She was probably right to laugh. They were good kids and well behaved. Betty Cooper was curled up in pink pajamas printed all over with soft purple sheep, her hair tied up in little buns. Jughead, wrapped in a ratty sleeping bag, glared at the cold as though it were a tangible thing. Archie, flipping through the books with a flashlight, spilling over with half-remembered facts, misquoted, dominated the conversation. 

As the night wore on, Archie's voice droned lower and lower- and finally stilled. For a long while, it was quiet whenever Fred stuck his head outside. He decided to move over to Archie's room where the view was a little clearer. Archie lay flat on his stomach, drooling a little and snuffling in his sleep, head pillowed on his crossed arms. A little ways away, Jughead had spread out his sleeping bag to cover the corner of the roof and was laying on his back, looking at the sky. Betty sat on the edge of it, arms wrapped around her knees, face tilted up.

“Orion is the hunter- those three bright ones there, those are the belt.” Jug was saying, voice soft, gesturing a little. Betty's eyes were shining in the dark. Jug wasn't looking at her, but he knew. Fred could tell from the way his words stole gently over, answering her questions in measured, even tones with near infinite patience. Fred closed the window and went back to bed.

The phone rings when he gets home from work the next day. Fred picks up. Listens. Then he pulls the phone a little from his ear, wincing from the shrill voice on the other line. 

“Honestly,” Fred interrupts, looking out into the yard where the ladder leans against the side of the house next door, a pair of worn boots beating a quick retreat, “I'm thinking Archie is probably the least of your worries, Alice.” 

He sees Jughead against the side of the house, his face red, his hand over his lips like he's just figured out that he has them, they exist, there is a purpose to these. 

Fred waits up in the garage, reading the new Stephen King. He is on chapter three when he hears the quiet hiss of the sliding door, opening and closing. A rattle of chain. 

“Good evening, Jughead.” Fred says pleasantly. The boy jumps. Flushes. “Need anything from the shed?” He asks innocently. 

“Oh. Ah. No. Thank you.” Jughead says stiffly. 

“Someone kept messing with my ladder. Could have been dangerous,” Fred says casually, swinging a key around on his finger. Jughead watches the motion warily. 

“Yeah.” He gives himself a little shake. “Yeah. Sorry.... sorry to bother you. I'll head to bed.” 

“You do that,” Fred smiles. 

Maybe it is just that Fred likes to know things. He knows a few things. He knows that the life he has is not the life that Mary wanted- that all the love in the world sometimes isn't enough. He knows what caring about people is like, when you don't know where it is going, even when you can see the end on the horizon, your path headed that way like a set of train tracks. The derailment is inevitable. He knows what it's like to see the girl next door- all big glasses and braces and little kid saddle shoes shoot up into the girl of your dreams. He knows what it's like to see it and hold it- and to lose it, blown off in the wind of a world much bigger than just _love._

Fred remembers the last time Archie took the ladder. He pretended not to know, of course. Part of it was plausible deniability- part of it was the hopeless romantic that refused to die, even after Mary had stopped texting past _settled in Chicago, miss you guys._

Betty Cooper didn't make the cheer team. 

“Big surprise. Cheryl Blossom is basically a living, breathing argument that gingers don't have souls- no offense, Arch.” Jughead said. 

“Yeah, but.” Archie bit his lip. “She called Betty fat. I think she's pretty upset.” 

Jughead let out a guffaw of laughter that was so genuine and so FP that it made Fred's chest tie up- they hadn't spoken in months, not since they had gone their separate ways with the company and Fred had wondered a little exactly how much he was expected to lose, in this growing up thing. Forty five years old and he still wasn't done yet. 

“Betty is _flawless,_ ” Jughead said, matter of fact. 

“She's on a really crazy diet. She's hardly eating and she's super pale.” 

“Sound like she needs a prescription for Pop's.” Jughead said sagely. 

“Her Mom's all about the diet- and not exactly all about me, if you get my drift.”

“Yes, I see... persona non grata again? We'll have to activate stealth mode.” Jughead leaned forward to whisper into Archie's ear. 

“Dad?” Archie called a few minutes later. “Can Jug stay over tonight?” 

“Sure,” Fred said, where he was sitting on his arm chair, looking over the paper. “I'm feeling like burgers. You boys want to go pick up Pop's for dinner?” He pretended not to see the looks they exchanged. 

“Sounds good, Mr. Andrews.” Jughead said smoothly. 

He watched from the window as the boys struggled with the ladder up the side of the house- crashing so that he was certain that the wrath of the Coopers would descend upon them (and him) at a moment's notice. He was not close enough to hear the conversation, but he saw the hand off, Archie at the top of the ladder beaming at the pretty blonde girl and Jughead holding the ladder steady. While Betty threw her arms around her best friend, Jug just watched, a little melancholic smile on his face. 

At dinner, Jughead eats only two slices of pizza. 

“You feeling okay, Jug?” Archie asks, putting a hand up on the other boy's forehead. Jughead swats him off, but kindly. 

“I'm fine, Archie. I'm just not so hungry today.” 

Upstairs, on the way to brush his teeth, Fred sees Betty Cooper, leaning out of her window. Her room is lit pink, her hair around her shoulders, her eyes sad. Rapunzel in her tower. Fred flosses and rinses and curses himself for a sentimental fool. 

“Jug.” Fred catches him alone in Archie's room while Arch is downstairs, swapping out a load of laundry. Jug whirls away from the window, putting his back against it as if he is doing something wrong, looking at Betty Cooper who is clearly, fully, looking at him. 

“Do me a favor,” Fred asks. 

“Absolutely. Whatever you need, Mr. A.” Jughead says quickly, his eyes a little brighter and it hurts Fred to see him like this, so puppy eager to please. And Fred isn't sure, anymore, who he was meant to be protecting. 

“The storm's really done a number on the upstairs windows. They're all grimy and covered in pollen. It's been busy at the site and with Archie's hand... it's gotten a bit messy. Would you mind giving them a spray down this week?” Fred asks casually. 

“No problem, I can get to it tomorrow if the weather's nice.” Jughead assures him. 

“Good. Might need to check the gutters too, when you have time. Tell you what, why don't you just keep a hold of this-” Fred tosses something at Jughead who catches it automatically. “-for now?” 

Jughead opens his hand. The key to the shed. He shoots a quick, appraising, hopeful look at Fred who shrugs. 

“Just make sure you put everything back,” Fred says. 

“I promise.” Jughead beams.

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm posting fluff, it's atonement for what I'm about to put up, so... fair warning my dudes. Feedback always appreciated!


End file.
